


Dirty Bandage

by Cumbermarvel (UglyJackal)



Series: Marvel Whumptober 2018 [7]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Animal Death, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 13:13:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16285235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UglyJackal/pseuds/Cumbermarvel
Summary: Eyes like a drowning ship looked up at him. ‘He… he was fine… just a year ago.’





	Dirty Bandage

**Author's Note:**

> Whumptober 2018 day 13: "Stay"
> 
> not sure how whumpy this is, but it sure is sad
> 
> this was inspired by bad-puns-and-even-worse-magic's fic on tumblr. She had the idea of Stephen bringing spirits out of skeletons, and I wanted to do something a little different for this prompt.

Stephen didn’t often visit the rugged city of Kathmandu anymore. It held quite a few unpleasant memories for him that he didn’t enjoy reliving. But today, it was as though a child was tugging at his trouser leg to go, like he was drawn to the place, like he had a  _ reason _ to go. It was as though a stray dog was howling in his veins, urging him back.

So he went.

He opened a portal on Kamar-Taj’s doorstep, where he had sat for five hours, begging not to be shut out.

He walked the streets, feeling like a lost beggar all over again. He could almost feel the brush of his long hair against the back of his neck, feel the greasiness of the beard hanging from his chin like a noose from a tree branch.

Gritting his teeth, he pushed the feeling down. He was there for something. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it was something.

His feet seemed to be guided by the small paw prints of a fox. The animal wound around his legs like an affectionate cat and nudged him towards the reason. The fox led him down back alleys, where no sane person would ever think of going.

But Stephen had never been called such things as “sane”.

He followed the fox until it stopped at a cart that had been abandoned, its wood starting to rot, and the blanket that lay on it was greasy and torn. The fox whined and nudged at the lip of the blanket, encouraging the sorcerer to lift up and see whatever was underneath it.

Deep down, Stephen knew what he would find. The place reeked of it.

Shaking hands lifted the shelter to the final resting place of a shaggy dog. A shaggy dog with a dirty bandage around one leg.

‘Oh, no,’ Stephen whispered, a hand sinking into the dirty fur.

The dog had been dead for at least six months. Some of his skeleton was laid bare to the world, but most of him was still intact, filthy fur laying lank on his chest and neck. At least Stephen could do right by the dog now.

He cast a spell that tied the dog’s body together, to keep the bones from being left behind. He gathered the dog up into his arms, pressing his nose between the canine’s eyes, a gentle tear dripping onto the fur, and then stepped through a portal back to the Sanctum.

Wong gave him a bizarre look when he walked into the library with drowning oceans in his eyes that spilled onto the pale beaches of his cheeks. The librarian said nothing, but followed at a gentle distance until Stephen had found what he was looking for; the softest sofa in the building. He lowered the dog gently onto the cushions, as though he was stretched out for a nap, and then settled himself down next to the dog, shaking fingers carding through rotting fur.

The librarian watched the teary spells be cast, ones that would allow the dog’s body to decay without interruption or smell, ones that would kill the maggots and fleas, ones that would let the dog rest in peace at last, ones that would tempt the spirit out of him. Wong tilted his head, wondering where Stephen had learned the spells and where he had found the dog. And why he was almost sobbing into the dog’s fur.

‘Stephen?’ he said, softly.

Eyes like a drowning ship looked up at him. ‘He… he was fine… just a year ago.’

‘How do you know this dog?’

‘Just before I came to Kamar-Taj… I was looking for it… and this dog… his leg was hurt, an-and I splinted it-’ the sorcerer pointed a shaking finger at the threadbare bandage that was falling from the dog’s leg, decay pushing the fabric away - ‘it was only last year… I didn’t even think about him, Wong… he died alone.’

The librarian stepped forward and sat down on the sofa next to Stephen. It was a slightly tight squeeze but neither cared. He put his arm gently around the mage’s slim shoulders. He said nothing, there wasn’t much that he could say, but he provided a solid comfort as Stephen sniffled into his shoulder.

It took another five months until the bones lay bare on the couch. Stephen would read next to them, trembling fingers tracing over the patterns in the bone as though dancing over piano keys. Even Wong had grown slightly attached to the skeleton, sometimes touching the cervical vertebrae as he passed.

No one was allowed near the dog - Vishanti, as he was affectionately known around the Sanctum. If  any of Stephen’s few visitors were in the library, both the sorcerer and librarian were always on high alert, paranoid that the dog would be touched by hands that didn’t know how. Once, Tony had seen the skeleton lying on the sofa and had accused the mage of killing the animal. Stephen’s eyes had hardened into furious forests, blue faeries reaching out and hissing at the mechanic. Tony had soon been evicted from the Sanctum.

‘I did kill you, didn’t I?’ the sorcerer whispered, sitting next to the skeleton. ‘If I had brought you with me, into Kamar-Taj, you could have been treated properly. Your leg wouldn’t have gotten infected.’

The skeleton seemed to stir a little, the bones, ever so slightly that the naked eye would miss it, shifted. As if they wanted to lean over and comfort the sorcerer.

‘I’m so sorry, Vishanti, I failed you.’

Out of the bones crept a timid-looking spirit, pale blue in colour. Ears were flat against his head, tail was tucked, but there was a determination in his black eyes. A determination to help, to comfort, to protect.

Stephen stared in disbelief. He raised a hand, which the dog sniffed and then licked. His tongue passed through the shaking fingers, and it felt like cold ice washing through his skin, but it made the sorcerer choke out a gasped sob.

Vishanti shook himself, before stepping forward and putting his paw on the mage’s leg. He whined as he looked up into drowning eyes. Stephen tenderly put his hand on the dog’s head, his skin sinking a little into the canine.

‘Stay?’ he murmured through a throat thick with tears.

Vishanti wagged his tail and pressed his nose to the mage’s neck.

He was definitely there to stay.

**Author's Note:**

> Buy me a coffee: https://ko-fi.com/stephenstrangestan


End file.
